Al Escondite
by TheFlyingWriter-01
Summary: 10-year-old Imelda is roped into playing a game of hide-and-seek with two annoying boys from her neighborhood, but... maybe it isn't as bad as she thought it was going to be.


It was a warm September evening of 1909, and in the small Mexican town of Santa Cecilia, ten-year-old Imelda Rivera was keeping a wary eye out. Staying close to her mamá while she and her family traversed the plaza, she watched cautiously for the two people she _knew_ would be coming around soon—the two people who were known for causing most (if not all) of the trouble in town.

…No, it was not the twins. Her younger brothers, Oscar and Felipe, were still mere children, weaving their way towards the fountain and blatantly disregarding their mother's warnings to stay near their papá.

"Oh, look, Imelda," Mamá said suddenly. "They have peaches today. Would you like one?"

The girl glanced behind her quickly, then moved to the stand, her eyes diverting to the produce. She smiled at the fuzzy fruits and nodded. "Yes, please, Mamá."

"I will get two," her mamá said decidedly. "The other can be for Oscar and Felipe, but I'll cut it in half for them."

"You know they'll just fight over who has the bigger half!" Imelda joked, and her mother laughed.

"That's true. Maybe three, then."

"What about for you and Papá?"

"…Alright. We will buy four. I don't mind getting the smaller half when it comes to sharing with your papá."

Imelda smiled as her gaze shifted over to the fountain, where Oscar and Felipe were running in circles around their father, who was looking mildly overwhelmed but mostly amused.

"Oh, Imelda!" Mamá said again, and the girl turned back to face her, still smiling.

"Yes, Mamá?"

"Aren't those your friends over there?"

 _Ay, Dios._

Imelda froze, smile falling instantly as a look of dread overtook her features. If she had been allowed to swear (she didn't even know any swears regardless), she would have, for not two seconds after the words left her mother's lips, the oh-too-familiar voice rang over the crowd.

"Señorita Rivera!" called _the menace_ , the worse of the town's two troublemakers— the one who wouldn't be quiet and leave her alone.

Imelda groaned and tried to hide around the other side of her mother, who raised an eyebrow at her.

"…What's the matter, mija? I thought you'd be happy to see your friends at the plaza."

"I've told you, Mamá. _Those two_ … are definitely _not_ my friends."

"Be nice, Imelda. They seem like sweet boys. And that one seems to really like you." A beat passed, and Imelda felt her mother lightly squeeze her shoulder. "…You know, if you give them a chance, you _might_ not think they're so bad."

" _Por favor_ , Mamá, don't say anything to them. I do _not_ want to be stuck with them all night."

"You know that I always do what I think is best for you, mija," Mamá winked, a glint of something that looked like mischief in her eye.

Imelda said nothing save for another groan, grimacing as she turned away from the approaching voices beside her.

"Hola, Señora Rivera!" they said in unison, and the matriarch nodded politely.

"Hola, niños. What brings you two to the plaza today?" she asked, handing some money to the peach vendor.

"We wanted to play al escondite," said the first boy, the one who had called for Imelda so excitedly.

(The one she _despised_.)

"You mean _you_ want to," the other one corrected, feigning grief. "That game is for niños, but as your hermano, I must suffer."

Imelda stole a glance at the one who had spoken – Ernesto. He was taller than her, and had a smile that already captivated most women in town (her friends thought he was cute, and she heard older ladies liked to pinch his cheeks). He had hit puberty very early, so even early in his thirteenth year, he was somehow beyond any gangly phase, already sturdily built, and was a smooth enough talker that he was rarely punished for whatever mischief he got himself (and anyone else) into.

Yes, he knew his assets, and used them well. He liked bragging too, though Imelda honestly couldn't be bothered to remember what about (she barely paid attention to him as it was). He also seemed to get irritated when things didn't go his way, or when people didn't do what he said, but as Imelda barely associated with him, and he the same to her, she rarely found it an issue.

"…Imelda?" her mamá asked, nudging the girl's shoulder softly.

Imelda's head popped up, her thoughts immediately forgotten. "What?"

"Por favor, won't you come play with us?"

Imelda's gaze moved to the excited voice of the other boy… the one she could barely stand.

 _…Héctor_.

He was only a year younger than her, but she thought he'd get along much better with the twins, from the way he bounced around and talked all day. He was shorter than both her and Ernesto, with big ears and messy hair, and always approached her the same way: a giant grin and the yell of "Señorita Rivera". Then he'd ramble for a good while about who-knows-what, seemingly undeterred that the conversation was one-sided (after the first three times or so he'd approached her, she began pointedly ignoring him, hoping he'd get the hint).

(…He didn't.)

Imelda couldn't _stand_ him; he never wore shoes, he would insist on _yelling_ to her from across the plaza, and he even talked during mass! Not to mention he was always getting into trouble with Ernesto (once, they had ended up knocking over every single vendor stall in the plaza… supposedly 'by accident', but Imelda didn't buy it). Where Ernesto was full of himself and entitled (Imelda didn't particularly like him either, but at least he was mildly tolerable and left her _alone_ ), Héctor was disheveled and annoying.

"No gracias," Imelda said curtly, and turned away, pretending to be interested in the adjacent fruit stall. "I'm helping my mamá."

"…Oh, it's alright, mija; I'm almost done here. You can play with your friends," her mamá said innocently, and Imelda internally winced as she saw Héctor's face light up. It was times like this she was _sure_ her mamá went out of her way to make her day miserable.

"…Are you _sure_ , Mamá?" Imelda pressed slowly through gritted teeth. "I don't mind helping. _Really_." If her mother didn't comply now, she would have to go and endure those two blundering—

"…Sí, I'm _very_ sure. Have fun, mija!" the woman smiled, and Imelda could almost see the devilish glint behind her eyes. Ay, was this woman _trying_ to give her a headache?

Imelda sighed, forcing a polite smile as she turned to Ernesto, intentionally ignoring his counterpart. "…Alright… I _guess_ I have _no_ reason… _not_ to..." she said, slightly over her shoulder, wanting her mother to hear.

"Muy bien," Ernesto said, flashing her a grin. "I've decided that I'm going to seek, so you two have to hide. How high do you want me to count? It doesn't matter to me; I'll find you easily enough, no matter how long you take."

Imelda rolled her eyes, but Héctor seemed unfazed. "Ah, count to…" He held up his hands, fingers spread as he counted. "…The highest number you know!"

Ernesto frowned. "That will take all night!"

Héctor mirrored his frown. "Ay, okay… halfway to there, then."

Ernesto sighed, before finally nodding. "Alright, we'll go with that, then."

Imelda was suffering just listening to them.

She considered going home. Ideally, she would have been the seeker, and just left those idiotas to their silly game once they were hidden. Unfortunately, Ernesto had made the decision, meaning she could either disagree and prolong this mess, or go with it and find another solution as a hider.

…Well, come to think of it, maybe being a hider _did_ have a way out. After all, once Ernesto closed his eyes, she could just leave, and they (stupid boys) would think she was just that great at hiding. Yes, that was what she'd do. It _may_ have been a little rude, but she didn't really care about manners when it came to the weird boys from her neighborho—

Something smooth and bony intertwined itself in her hand, and she jumped. Héctor was beaming up at her, his fingers between hers. "I can show you a really good hiding place if you want!" he said excitedly.

…Oh, that's right. There was no way she was getting away from this… ay, this _parásito_ … as long as Ernesto was the one searching.

Speaking of Ernesto, he had moved about a yard away, hands over his eyes and back turned from them, presumably counting 'halfway to the highest number he knew'.

(…Boys were so dumb...)

"…Ah, no gracias," she grimaced, trying to pull her hand away. His grip was surprisingly firm, but to his credit, he let go when he felt her struggle.

"Are you sure?" he pressed, looking saddened at first, but then surprisingly, putting on a rather mischievous smirk. "It's a really good place! I promise! And if he finds me, I promise I won't tell on you!"

…Imelda considered this.

…Yes… if she made sure Héctor was found first, she could 'stay hidden' while Ernesto looked somewhere else, and then make her escape. Though begrudgingly, she sighed and nodded. "…Okay, fine, I'll go with you. Where is it?"

The eight-year-old bounced on his toes excitedly. "I'll show you! Come with me!" He started to take her hand again, but she sidestepped his efforts. He didn't react, and started trotting down the street, continuously glancing behind to make sure she was still following.

"Ernesto is _really_ good at seeking," he explained, beginning to walk backwards, "so I have muchos escondites. But this one is my favorite!"

Imelda didn't acknowledge him other than a 'hm', glancing around at the people heading home for the night. The sooner she could be one of those people, the better…

Héctor had stopped (Imelda almost ran into him), and was bouncing so excitedly he seemed ready to burst. "I wanted to bring you here because it makes me…" He paused, fingers wiggling with contained energy as he searched for the words. "…Ay, muy feliz! And I want you to be happy too, since you always look so upset..."

She furrowed her brows, frowning. "…What?"

His eyes went wide. "Ah, n-nevermind," he said quickly, and moved to the building before them, hurriedly trying to change the subject. "We're here! Mi escondite favorito!" He held up his arms dramatically, and Imelda raised a brow.

"The cantina?" she asked, unimpressed. "You know we can't go in there."

"Sí, I know," he retorted, actually looking annoyed at her. "I'm not stupid. Have some faith in your amigo!"

She said nothing, save for the quiet echo of "…Sí… 'amigo'… sure…" and he moved to the alley behind the cantina, beckoning for her to follow. She did so, and watched him clamber up a stack of boxes below the open window.

After peering in, he leaned down and held out his hand. "It's here," he said, and by the time Imelda reached the top of the boxes beside him, she realized she'd taken his offer to help her up. She pulled her hand away again, but he didn't notice, his eyes locked on the room through the window.

"Here, do you want to go in first?" he asked, and she blinked.

"What?"

"Through the window," he explained. "I'll help you through and you can help me. We just have to—"

"No, I know what you're saying. But we can't go in the cantina!"

"We're not _going_ to go in the cantina," he explained, a devious look coming across his skinny face. "It's just the back room. You know, where they keep the plates and things. Don't worry, we won't be near any alcohol."

"…What if someone comes in?" Imelda asked, looking skeptical.

"No one comes in there when the singing starts!"

She paused, and echoed him. "…Singing?"

"Sí, the performers are so good! That's why I like hiding here. We can listen through the door!" He looked at her pleadingly. "Just for a little bit. Por favor?"

Imelda was divided. She loved music, but… if someone were to find them…

"Oh, chi-i-icos!" came a sudden strong voice from down the way they'd come, singing the words tauntingly. "Dónde está-á-án?"

"Ernesto!" the two children whispered to one another, sharing a desperate look.

Imelda, determined not to be 'found' first, practically threw herself through the window. She almost knocked over a shelf getting down on the other side, but managed to make it silently.

Héctor, however, flailed through the window after her, and knocked several shot glasses onto the floor. One shattered, and Imelda cringed.

"Oops," he said, narrowly avoiding stepping on the shards with his filthy bare feet.

"Idiota!" she chided. "You're so loud! Watch where you're going!"

He offered a sheepish grin and a shrug. "Lo siento, Señorita Rivera."

"Ay, and stop calling me that, like I'm a grown up!"

"Well, what do you want me to call you?"

"My name!" she said, exasperated. "You know, 'Imelda'? My name?"

He blinked at her, then smiled. "Okay, Imelda."

(Ay, no! Imelda scolded herself. Why did she allow him to be on a first-name basis with her? Now he'd think they were actually _friends_!)

"They should start singing soon," Héctor explained, moving towards the door to the cantina. "There's a crack here, so we can see if they dance too!"

"We're not staying for the music," Imelda commanded. "Once your friend leaves, we leave. We should _not_ be in here."

"It's okay," he smirked. "I told you, no one comes back here. It's fine."

She huffed but said nothing, listening for Ernesto's whistling outside the window, and likewise, when it subsided.

It only took a minute before she heard the guitar strum through the door. Héctor, sitting on the floor, was practically glued to the crack, but he turned and beckoned wildly to her. "They're starting! Come see!"

She hesitated, but joined him. "…Alright, but just really quick. We can't get distracted, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed absentmindedly, not really seeming to grasp what she said. He scooted away to sit against the doorframe. "Look right through here."

Imelda crouched beside him, found the crack, and peered through. She could see the tables, most filled with patrons, and the stage, where a man and woman were performing. She recognized them; they were travelers all the way from Spain, if she remembered correctly, who were passing through Santa Cecilia as part of a journey across the world! Someone (she couldn't remember who) had told her they were siblings. The man sat on a stool and played a dark brown guitar, while the woman stood and sang some song Imelda had never heard.

She didn't realize that she'd been frozen at the crack until the song ended and the patrons began to clap. "That was…" she started, but trailed off when she saw Héctor propped up against the door frame with closed eyes and a soft smile on his face. "Are you sleeping?!" she hissed, and shook his arm vigorously.

His eyes opened even before she touched him. "Hey, I'm awake! Stop it! I'm not asleep!" He rubbed his arm tenderly as she released him. "I was listening too. I liked that song."

"I've never heard it before," Imelda heard herself say.

"Me neither," he shrugged. "But wasn't it nice?"

She nodded, and a silence feel between them as the next musician prepared to go up.

"…That's how I want to be," he said finally, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"I want to play music like that. And make people happy, like it makes me happy."

"And travel the world?"

He shrugged. "…I don't know. Maybe. I might get lonely."

She nodded solemnly, tugging on her long braid. "I would never want to leave Santa Cecilia. I'd miss my family too much."

He didn't respond, and a silence fell between them again, finally broken as another musician began to play through the door. It was a song Imelda had heard a few times, but she didn't really know any of the words too well.

"Did you want to see?" she asked, moving away from the door, but he shook his head.

"No, I see them all the time. I want to dance. Will you dance with me?"

"What? We can't dance here!"

"Why not? No one will see us. It's just for fun!"

Imelda hesitated, but as the song's beat began to pick up, she couldn't resist. "…Alright, but just for this song. Then we have to go, okay?"

"Okay!" he agreed again, already on his feet in the center of the room (away from the broken shot glass). "Do you know how to dance?"

"Of course I do! I love dancing."

"Ay, perfecto! Here," he cheered, and took her hands. "I don't _really_ know how to dance, but I like to make it up as the song goes. Like going where the music takes me!"

She said nothing and they both began to move around the room, bodies awkwardly in unison but yet also offbeat from one another. The whole situation was quite weird and _very_ awkward, but the longer they danced, the more Imelda found she didn't mind.

They barely noticed the song ending and another beginning, as they were too busy skipping around the room and laughing with each other, falling into a shared rhythm. Song by song passed, and they didn't say a word to each other the whole time, too overcome by the fun they were having.

As they spun around the back room, Imelda realized maybe Héctor… _wasn't_ as annoying as she'd thought. He was still a troublemaker, perhaps, but he had a good heart. He was thoughtful, cheerful, fun-loving, and even serious about his dreams or plans for the future.

Maybe her mamá was right. _Maybe_ he was a nice boy. _Maybe_ she actually _liked_ him. _Maybe_ she'd even want to be his fr—

 _Bang_!

The door slammed open, and the two children were thrown off kilter, landing on the floor rather ungracefully. "Qué es eso? What is the meaning of this? …You again, boy!" a gravelly voice barked, and the two scrambled to find the bartender, a large, balding man, towering over them disapprovingly.

"Ah, lo siento, Señor García!" Héctor cried, hurriedly jumping to his feet and standing in front of Imelda. He grinned sheepishly. "We, ah, fell in through the window, and the door to the cantina was locked, so-"

"This door is _not locked_ while the cantina is open," the man retorted, looking angry. "…Ay, were you _stealing_ from me? Un mentiroso y un _ladrón_!" He grabbed at Héctor's wrist roughly, and the boy cried out, face immediately contorting to a look of pure fear.

"Ay, l-let me go! I apologize for the lie, but I'm not a _thief…_!" Without a second thought, Imelda slammed her heel into the bartender's foot, and he instantly released the boy, his attention now diverted to his throbbing toes. Héctor blinked, then stared at her in awe.

"Don't just stand there!" she cried, and grabbed his hand, practically dragging his flailing body out through the cantina. Some patrons had heard the commotion and were coming to investigate, so they had to weave through them to get out the door. The two heard shouts from behind them growing closer, but as they kept running, they slowly faded.

Finally, the two stopped, breathless, in the center of the now-abandoned plaza. After a moment, they looked at each other, and laughed so hard they were breathless all over again.

"I can't believe we outran them!" Héctor cried.

"I think they just figured we weren't worth the effort," Imelda offered.

"I don't think they recognized you, at least; so you shouldn't get in trouble. I'm sorry I took you there."

Imelda shook her head, grinning. "No, don't apologize. That was… so much fun! It's too bad they'll recognize me if I go back _now_ , though. I loved the music."

"Me too. I think Señor García will actually kill me if _I_ go back there again." He rubbed the back of his head, looking both sheepish and distraught.

"Well… we can make our own music, you know."

"What?"

"You can play music, right?"

"…Oh, s-sí…" he said quietly, suddenly looking very shy. "But I've never played for anyone before… well, besides Ernesto."

"What? Why not? I thought you said you wanted to be a musician."

"Sí, I do, but… I don't know if I'm any good. I don't even have my own guitar; I've only learned how to play from borrowing guitars of the mariachis who pass through here..."

Imelda furrowed her brow. "…Well, can you sing?"

He shrugged. "…I think so."

"Then there should be nothing for you to worry about." She paused. "You should play at the plaza some time. I'd like to hear it."

He pondered the thought, then beamed at her. "…A-alright! I will, then! I'll play a song only for you, Señori—ah, Imelda!"

She smiled back. "…This was fun, Héctor."

His face flushed, though Imelda figured it was still from the excitement of their escape. "I had fun too," he said, uncharacteristically quiet. A silence fell, and after a moment he moved to speak again. "I-"

"I win! Just like always!" called a voice, and the two children jumped away from one another like they'd been caught, suddenly realizing they had still been holding hands. "You two aren't very good at hiding, you know."

"E-Ernesto!" Héctor gasped. "Where did you come from?"

"Down the street," the older boy said, raising an eyebrow. "Where do you think?"

"Oh, r-right. Of course. Al escondite…"

"…It's late now," Imelda said suddenly, and the two boys turned to her. "This game was long, and mi familia will be worried about me, so I should head home."

They nodded. "Do you want us to go with you? It's dark," Ernesto offered, and Héctor fidgeted beside him.

"No gracias; I know the way."

"Will you be at the plaza tomorrow?" Héctor asked softly, fingers idly tracing his hands as he studied her face.

"Maybe. Will you?"

"Sí, I'll be there!" Ernesto beamed, and Héctor nodded, eyes never leaving hers.

"Alright, well… buenas noches," she said, offering a small polite smile before heading home.

"Buenas noches, Imelda!" they called, and scurried off their own ways respectively.

As Imelda got further away, she suddenly realized how comfortable she'd allowed herself to become over the course of the evening. Was it possible she… liked…

What _? No_!

 _No, no, no_!

This was _Héctor_ , the weird boy from her neighborhood that she _despised_! Yet she'd encouraged him to play a _song_ for her, as well as implied to see him tomorrow! _And_ they'd _danced_ together!

…What was _wrong_ with her?! Was she loco?

She hopped up to her door and shook her head, silently reprimanding herself. None of this would have happened if her mother had just minded her own business! Yes, it was all her fault that this had happened!

Imelda made it to her room with surprisingly no hindrance, and laid down on top of the covers, though she was far from tired. '…Ay, that pest of a boy will _never_ leave me alone now…' she thought, ignoring the other part of her brain that whispered '…maybe that wasn't so bad…'.

She didn't fall asleep for the next hour.


End file.
